A Beautiful Mask
by thinlaces
Summary: Ugly things are easy to hide beneath a beautiful guise. (HBP) When Severus Snape makes the Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa Malfoy, he realizes that her son's life has become a mirror image of his own; a life he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemy.
1. Chapter 1: Meeting the Snake

This is my first story, but I've read plenty and hopefully done all my fanfic research well. Criticism always welcomed, flames not particularly appreciated!

Thank you for reading :)

Disclaimer: Unless I've run across some stray Polyjuice and transformed into JK, this world is not mine.

Today once marked the beginning of Severus Snape's sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; however, today now marks the beginning of Draco Malfoy's sixth year at the aforementioned school, a year that Severus Snape desperately hopes will be different than his own. Darkness has already seeped into the cracks of wizarding society once again, but the resistance, namely the Order, has been busy constantly pressing against it.

Snape lies awake, thinking about the edge of the knife that he is currently balancing on. Voldemort continues to expect more and more, but the more Voldemort pushes the more Dumbledore pushes back. Unfortunately the Potions professor is crushed between their combined forces.

He flips to his back and stares at the ceiling, contemplating. These moments at night are the only times he gets relief, though sneering at incompetent students often does the trick. Snape's mouth tugs up into a barely perceptible half smile as he thinks of taking points from Gryffindor.

He quite enjoys when the lions mutter about how unfair and prejudiced he is. This only ever serves to amuse him more, considering he knows exactly how supposedly unfair and prejudiced he is.

Unlike the other flowery professors with notions of peace and justice constantly running through their deluded minds, Severus Snape is quite aware of how unfair the world can be. And if it takes one nasty Potions professor to open the eyes of sheltered children, then so be it. Who else will be there to prepare them for the world?

There was no one there for him, and he has been and will be paying for it for the rest of his life.

The next morning Severus opens his eyes and rises out of bed without hesitation. His movements are robotic as he brushes his teeth and tries to force himself to choke down some tea after burning his hand on the kettle.

Professors are required to attend one meal a day in the Great Hall, but Severus can't bear the thought of sitting among the very people that trust, or at least tolerate him.

They shouldn't. No matter if he's secretly Dumbledore's man, he still does the Dark Lord's bidding. He kills, raids, and incites fear into the hearts of many. For a long time now, Severus has wondered about his own heart. He sometimes forgets that he has one.

Unfortunately, today is not a good day to grieve for whatever humanity the Dark Lord has squashed out of him. Getting through teaching these poor, innocent imbeciles is enough challenge for a day, but throw in a Death Eater meeting and it becomes a real party.

Severus sighs and sets down his cup, which is still full.

Several hours later he spills that same cup, now full of ice cold liquid, all over the front of his robes while frantically searching for his Death Eater mask. It's the third time this week he's lost it, and being late more than twice is enough to warrant a myriad of dark curses as punishment.

Finally, after checking the clock every ten seconds, he Apparates to Malfoy Manor after deciding that arriving on time is more important than dressing for the occasion.

Fortunately, Voldemort seemed to agree, aside from a harsh comment about dressing to show respect. Snape simply glanced at the red eyes for a split second, then trained his own gaze on the floor in a sign of deference.

He only raised his eyes after hearing Voldemort cruelly chide Lucius for the "unseemly" condition of his manor. Honestly, Snape had never been much for the Malfoys' taste in decorations. They always seemed very cold, as though simply walking through the house would disrupt the various artifacts and delicate trinkets.

Snape allowed his mind to wander, a rare occurrence during a Death Eater meeting, but Voldemort seemed preoccupied with practicing a new curse on Rodolphus Lestrange. Lestrange's wretched wife, Bellatrix, seemed torn between whether she should simper at Voldemort's feet, or wince as he tortured her husband.

Allowing himself a bit of amusement at her predicament, Snape continued to shift his eyes about the room. He saw some brainless henchmen placed almost casually around the room. To the casual observer, they seemed occupied with nothing, but Snape was no observer.

He knew how Voldemort worked and he knew exactly why those henchmen were there. They were an insurance policy and a fear tactic. Voldemort had been bringing a lot more of these muscles around lately, making himself seem more dictatorial. It was an added bonus that they intimidated his more valued followers.

After all, the main purpose for the henchmen was sacrifice, in case the Aurors showed up. Voldemort always brought them into meetings when there was a special guest. Usually these guests were Muggles or Muggle supporters in the wizarding community, so Aurors were constantly on the watch for when they went missing.

Snape almost laughed at how ironic everything had turned out. Twenty years ago, Tom Riddle never would have sacrificed a loyal follower. In fact, he would go so far as to make them feel needed, vital to the cause.

Tom Riddle was the epitome of a charming man, but Lord Voldemort needed no one.

It was like flies to honey; they never realize the danger until they get stuck. Snape knew he was one of these brainwashed flies. He wished, more than anything, that he could go back in time and offer himself some fruit instead.

A drop of liquid landed on Snape's cheek, shaking him out of his thoughts. Voldemort watched as his spy slowly wiped Lestrange's blood off his face. The Dark Lord unconsciously licked his pale lip, which did not go unnoticed by Snape.

"Severuss, stay." Voldemort addressed him, stumbling over his name. "The rest of you are dismissed."

Snape carefully drew near to the Dark Lord as the Death Eaters disappeared. The reason for his presence at this meeting had finally come to light.

Voldemort had called him to come later than the others in order to give him some news about a development in their plans.

"Now, Severuss, you must be aware of how…displeased…I am with Lucius." At Snape's nod, he continued. "I have devised the perfect plan, and after informing the others, it was agreed upon." Snape flinched slightly, as he knew that nothing was discussed or easily agreed upon. This was no democracy.

"The Malfoy boy shall be the one to kill Dumbledore."

If Snape had blinked, he would have missed it. Malfoy? Draco Malfoy? Kill Dumbledore? He carefully arranged his features into a mask of approval and smiled.

"My Lord, how efficient."

"Yes, but naturally Narcissa protested and I know that the boy most likely will be unable to kill." Snape lowered his eyes, knowing what was coming.

"So I have decided that you are the backup plan." Voldemort finished his sentence in a way that indicated that Snape should respond agreeably.

Of course, Severus Snape inclined his head and Disapparated before Voldemort could even finish waving his hand in dismissal.

Of course, not more than five minutes after Snape had returned to his chambers at Hogwarts, he received a knock on the door. It was a tentative knock, with a slight shake that suggested a nervous knocker, but it still held purpose.

Upon opening the door, Draco Malfoy himself all but fell into view, complete with a white face and wide eyes. Snape shoved him right back through the door, closing it after walking out into the corridor himself.

"I suppose the Dark Lord informed you?" Snape asked as they walked to the Potions classroom. It wasn't as much of a question as it was a fact.

They reached the room and Snape made a beeline for his desk, turning away from Malfoy in order to begin sorting requisition forms for potion ingredients.

The boy nodded and swallowed hard, but Snape continued rifling through papers, pretending he didn't see how nervous the youngest Malfoy was.

"I don't suppose you would have a quill on hand?" he asked the boy, not looking up from his papers. He didn't want Malfoy to see the look in his own eyes, but his student took his distant attitude offensively.

"Sna- _Professor_ Snape," he gritted out, "I'd like to think that you'd show a little compassion. I've only been asked to murder the headmaster!" His voice rose hysterically by the end of the sentence and Snape slammed the stack of requisition forms down on the table. Several fluttered down onto the cold stone floor of the Potions classroom.

"Don't say that aloud fool!" he sneered. The boy narrowed his eyes, but stopped talking after that. Instead he bent down and picked up a form.

"Lacewing flies?" he read aloud. "Planning on turning into a handsomer man sometime soon?"

Snape ignored this. For some reason, the insolent boy had lost a lot of respect for his professor. He could only guess that he had let his guard down. Snape couldn't remember the last time he had called out Malfoy in class. Focusing all of his attention of Potter may have led him to neglect other students.

"Well done Malfoy." Snape drawled. "You remembered a main ingredient in the Polyjuice Potion. I suppose I'll pull out my gradebook and add a little bonus for my favorite student."

The boy rolled his eyes at this and opened his mouth to return the gibe, but Snape had already grabbed his collar.

"Don't think you can challenge me boy. I want, no, I _demand_ respect from you and if I don't get it, your little assignment from the Dark Lord will be the least of your worries this year."

Malfoy turned even whiter, and Snape considered stopping by the Hospital Wing to get a Pepperup potion. The boy looked as though he had spent a week underground.

"Go back to the dormitory. We will discuss your problem later."

Snape turned his attention back to the requisitions. Minutes later, long after Malfoy had left, Snape looked up and saw a quill sitting on his desk where it hadn't been before.

He allowed himself a half smile and continued marking ingredients onto the forms.

The next morning, Severus Snape awoke to a burning on the inside of his arm. Bugger it all. He had been looking forward to enjoying a restful, or at least a relatively restful weekend, considering he was surrounded by adolescents.

He Apparated for the second time in twenty-four hours to dear Lucius's house. This time he took his time to walk through the corridor and admire the lovely paintings hanging on the walls. His personal favorite was a medieval-looking wizard impaling a village boy with a flaming spear. Snape spent a few more minutes reading the description.

Apparently being caught in a compromising position with the daughter of a powerful wizard was punishable by being grilled, kabob style.

Snape strolled into the main room where His Highness was taking attendance. His form of roll call, which involved cursing Death Eaters who didn't present themselves quick enough, was a bit more violent than Snape used in his own classroom, but it seemed to encourage promptness.

Perhaps he should take notes to improve his own teaching methods.

Unfortunately, one of the cursed was the Malfoy heir who had arrived late. Snape shook his head and let out a barely noticeable sigh. The boy never learned.

He continued to watch the meeting silently for the next half hour. Basically, Voldemort used his classic methods. He questioned various Death Eaters about what he had ordered them to do, cursed them when he was unsatisfied with whatever mediocre results they had brought him, and leaned back in his chair to assess how the other unfortunate souls in the room were responding to his bursts of violence.

Most of his followers simply stared at various spots on the ceiling, the floor, or fixed their gaze on the statue of a dancing Cupid in the corner. Snape let out another imperceptible sigh regarding the Malfoys' choice in decorations.

Finally, the meeting got interesting. Voldemort summoned Draco Malfoy to him. There was a glimmer of humanity in his eyes as he spoke almost sweetly to the boy.

"Have you chosen to accept the task you've been assigned?" Snape held back a snort at this. It wasn't as though he would live to refuse what Voldemort wanted. But the Dark Lord seemed to be pulling out all the niceties to get young Draco fully on board. After all, he was nearing the age to get Marked.

"Yes my lord." Draco responded as respectfully as possible. Snape almost did snort this time. Where was all this courtesy last night?

All the humor faded away as Voldemort affectionately touched Malfoy's shoulder. Snape retreated into his own mind, remembering.

 _"Will you carry out your Lord's task, Severuss?" the attractive man had almost hissed._

 _"Yes my lord." he had responded in all his naivety._

 _The Dark Lord touched his shoulder, smiling at him the way a father might smile at his son._

Snape was jolted out of this memory by the sound of something shattering on the floor.

He glanced around the room and his eyes landed on the Cupid statue, now smashed on the ground next to its pedestal.

Evidently, the Dark Lord also disapproved of the Malfoys' taste in home décor.

Snape returned to Hogwarts with something weighing heavily on his mind. How was it that Malfoy had gotten sucked into the same trap he had been caught in so many years ago? He would describe the boy as expendable, at best.

The Dark Lord had valued him because of his remarkable talents in inventing curses and of course, Potions. What did he see in Draco Malfoy?

Two updates in the same day?! Sue me, I was struck by inspiration and wanted to add a little action to the story. I've got a plan all mapped out and the first chapter was just a bit dry. And short. So I added more, just to live dangerously.


	2. Chapter 2: Meanwhile, at Hogwarts

Yay! It's time for another update. I know, I know. It's only been a day. But I've somehow been stricken with this never-before-seen creativity. Usually I start something and NEVER finish it. But don't let that discourage you from reading! I actually made a plan for this story. As always, views are appreciated but add a little 're' in front of that and I'll be thrilled beyond belief!

Disclaimer: Look, just because I'm super tight with JK's friend's sister's husband's neighbor's dog's cousin doesn't mean I can just claim rights to her works.

Draco Malfoy wasn't quite sure how to feel. He was sitting in a rather undignified cross-legged position on the floor of his dormitory, sorting through his trunk.

He didn't want to think about what he had gotten caught up in, thanks to his father. He folded a few shirts, scowling when he noticed the lint that had collected on his favorite dress shirt.

As Draco slowly began to pick off each individual lint particle, he felt a growing guilt rise inside of him for blaming his father. He knew that the man didn't mean well; if the Dark Lord asked him to curse his son he would do it without hesitation.

But Draco had never been the most important thing in his father's life.

His hand brushed over the first tie that he had learned how to tie. His mother had taught him how before a large gathering that she had hosted. His family wasn't particularly close, but he remembered each moment that his parents had devoted to him.

 _"Draco, don't knot it like that. It looks common."_

 _The boy dropped the tie and looked up at his mother. "Will you do it for me then?"_

 _"Will you do it for me then, please?" she corrected. The boy lifted his chin in defiance._

 _"Draco Malfoy doesn't say please!" he sneered._

 _His mother tilted her head at that. "Never forget to observe the niceties Draco. One day you will be glad that you did." She bent down and loosened the offending tie, making sure her son was watching as she tied the proper knot._

Ha. Sorry Mother, but I've quite forgotten about niceties, Draco thought.

His lint picking was interrupted by a thundering sound, followed by the sound of rain on water. He smirked. Everyone else at this miserable school believed that the Slytherins, locked away in their dungeons, had no idea when it rained.

True, they couldn't see it, but they always heard it. The dungeons were under the lake, and if it rained hard enough one could hear the faint sound of droplets.

As Draco Malfoy continued to fuss over his dress shirts, Gregory Goyle entered the dorm.

"I saw Granger today in the library," his roommate informed him, "but I didn't say anything to her."

Draco looked up from where he had put aside the shirt in favor of organizing the explosion of loose parchment at the bottom of his trunk. "Why would you be in the library, Goyle?"

"I actually do my schoolwork, Malfoy. I'm not a complete dimwit." Malfoy winced at this. He hadn't known what to say to Greg's announcement about Granger, so he had brought up his friend's supposed lack of intelligence. It was a bit of a sore topic.

Plus, he didn't want to get into the reason for why Greg would feel it was appropriate to mention the Gryffindor girl. See, earlier on the train, his friend had overheard Granger defending him to Potter and the Weasel.

Of course, this little story had led to his entire dorm inventing a ridiculous tale about Granger's hidden feelings for him. He had rolled his eyes at this in disgust. Honestly, Slytherins only bonded when they were making fun of someone else together.

It was a bit curious, though. The way that Granger had apparently been so against the idea of him being a Death Eater. He wasn't, not officially, but as soon as a Gryffindor hears the word Slytherin, the first thing they do is throw out accusations of how all Slytherins are Death Eaters. He hadn't realized that 'dark wizard' was now listed as a synonym for Slytherin in the dictionary.

Draco snorted and shook his head. And those mangy lions think that Slytherin house needs new material for their jokes.

"Something funny mate?" Greg asked from his bed across the room. Draco turned and surveyed his friend.

"What on earth are you doing Goyle?" he asked with a frown. His roommate was facing the ceiling, his upper half hanging off the side of the bed.

"Well, after I asked her where to find a book earlier in the library, Ginny Weasley told me that hanging upside down would make blood rush to my head and help my circulation and I would get smarter." His friend replied.

"And you believed that? Why were you asking Weaslette about books anyway? I doubt she's ever seen one. Her family can't afford such priceless artifacts."

Greg, who was quite red-faced at this point, lifted himself with some effort. "She was the only other one there besides Granger!"

Draco rolled his eyes and snickered. "At least they seem to be getting more creative with their insults."

Greg simply scoffed and massaged his temples.

A few corridors away, Severus Snape was lying flat on the floor. He was taking deep breaths at precise intervals, attempting to steady his mind. It was a technique he had learned in his sixth year while studying Occlumency.

Flashes of memories continued to run across his mind, disrupting his meditative state.

 _A flash of red hair turning a corner._ He took another breath.

 _Angry green eyes peering at him. A voice snapping "Don't talk to me anymore!"_ Snape shut his eyes tightly.

 _Sitting alone under a tree. Eating alone at meals. Shadowing her footsteps in the hallways on the way to class._ He twitched.

 _Absorbing himself further into Dark Arts._

 _Getting closer to the people in his house. Avery, Lestrange, and Black. Malfoy._

 _"Severus Snape? You should really join us at tonight. We're going to an important meeting. It could change the world."_ He smiled humorlessly.

 _"Yess, we'll change the world, you and I. My boy, you've just made the best decision of your life." A voice hissed, full of empty promises and false affection._

 _Tom Riddle's black eyes gleamed red for an instant as he eyed the fly that he had just caught in his trap._

At this, Snape opened his eyes again. It was uncanny how much Draco Malfoy was starting to remind him of himself.

On yet another floor, Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley were sitting in their dormitory. Hermione was perched on the windowsill, scraping the bottom of a hot chocolate mug with her spoon. Ginny was sprawled on the floor with a slightly dated copy of a wizarding fashion magazine.

"Gin, do you ever feel sorry for Malfoy?" Hermione questioned, not taking her eyes off of her empty mug.

Her friend snorted derisively. "Honestly, 'Mione. What kind of question is that?"

"I mean it! Come on, he has horrible parents."

"His dad is horrible. His mum, though, I could feel bad for her." Ginny said thoughtfully as she flipped a page in her magazine.

Hermione wasn't surprised in the least. Ginny, as a "blood traitor" Weasley had always loathed the Malfoys. Especially after what happened in her second year, Ginny's first year. Hermione shuddered a bit and Ginny looked up.

"What're you thinking about?" the younger girl asked. Hermione smiled a bit. Ginny had always been able to read her like a book. Even though she was a year younger, she understood Hermione's feelings pretty well. It was nice to have a girl friend, especially when she was surrounded by the idiocy that is Ron and Harry.

This time, however, Hermione didn't want to share her feelings with Ginny. It was sort of an unspoken agreement to never bring up the unfortunate possession murder attempt that had changed Ginny's life.

After a pause, Hermione responded. "Snape's assigned a few feet about the use of snake fangs in healing potions and I don't know if I'm well versed enough in the topic to produce a satisfactory essay."

A crumpled ball of magazine hit the side of Hermione's head before she even finished her sentence.

"Shut it 'Mione. You _know_ that you know everything about everything."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but deciding against it, instead unfurled the magazine page that had previously been used as Ginny's weapon of choice.

There was a large picture of a model wearing sky blue robes, a few magic (literally!) diet advertisements, and an ad for a necklace for sale.

"Look at this necklace Gin! It would go well with that cashmere sweater of mine, don't you think?"

The other girl hummed in agreement. "Where are they selling it?"

"Oh, it's at Dervish & Banges." Hermione replied, scanning the ad.

"That's a bit odd," Ginny said, wrinkling her brow, "for Dervish & Banges to be selling a necklace. Don't they mainly deal with magical objects?"

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose."

"Well," Ginny continued, "the next Hogsmeade visit is in a couple weeks. I figure we can check it out then."

Her friend nodded, picked up the empty mug that had been forgotten, and continued staring out the window, watching the raindrops converge on the glass and slide to the bottom of the pane.


End file.
